


Realization

by ziskandra



Series: Refraction [2]
Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Audra POV, Cunnilingus, F/M, Morning After, Morning Sex, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: Audra's been busy filing away the parts of her life that don’t spark joy while retaining the parts that do, like she’s Marie Kondo-ing the weight and burden of everyone’s expectations instead of her household possessions.(Or: Greg and Audra meet at Rebecca's open mic night, hit it off, and spend some quality time together before Audra leaves town.)
Relationships: Audra Levine/Greg Serrano
Series: Refraction [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977016
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4
Collections: Yes Fest 2020





	Realization

**Author's Note:**

  * For [innie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innie/gifts).



When Audra first stirs in the morning, there’s sunlight streaming through the window. It’s her first sign something’s different than usual. Different, but not necessarily wrong. She snuggles up to the body next to her, limbs tangling with limbs as she makes herself comfortable, almost drifting back to sleep.

It’s the second sign something is amiss. When was the last time she’d shared her bed with a full-grown person? She cracks open an eye and is greeted with the sight of a broad back, loosely defined shoulders, strong arms. It’s not the musculature of someone who spends five days at a week chiseling away at their body in a prestigious New York City gym. No, these are the arms of a man who works in some sort of manual labor role. Service industry, perhaps?

She blinks rapidly, chasing away the last drops of drowsiness weighing down her eyelids, reorienting herself as she grows more and more awake. As she does so, she reaches out with a hand to trace the swell of the man’s triceps. Hey, might as well enjoy the view while she’s got it, right? Even though she’s still piecing together why it exists at all?

Memories of the last night, the prior weekend, return bit by bit. She’s in a backwater town on the other side of the country, ostensibly providing support to her frenemy but mostly seeking a respite, however short, from her responsibilities. The advice Rebecca had offered Audra in Las Vegas doesn’t fit Audra perfectly, but she’s done her best to adapt it nonetheless, loath as she is to admit it. She’s been busy filing away the parts of her life that don’t spark joy while retaining the parts that do, like she’s Marie Kondo-ing the weight and burden of everyone’s expectations instead of her household possessions.

Her ex-husband has the kids this weekend, which means they’re most likely getting taken care of by his parents. It is what it is. Despite everything this past year or two has been, Audra’s grateful for the support network she has, even though it never comes without a price. But that’s okay. Some things are worth their weight in gold.

For a weekend, at least, she can escape New York and simply _be_. But on Sunday night she’s getting back on a plane, ready to be at work bright and early on Monday morning, because she’s an adult. Not just any adult, but goddamn _Audra Levine._

The man lying next to her, she recalls, is Greg Serrano. One of Bunch’s ex-lovers, they’d met each other at her open mic night. She’d caught him staring, not that she could blame him. As they started talking she thought she’d be put off by the fact that he was one of Bunch’s exes, like Rebecca was the star of very own _Ramona Flowers_ movie, but she’d found herself drawn to him instead. He was _funny_ , not afraid to be mean, a bit rough around the edges.

If there’s anything she’s learnt about herself in the past year, it’s that she likes that roughness, that deviation from her own perfectly particular maintained and manicured appearance. It feels real, more real than anything she’d ever allowed herself to experience before.

She finds herself wondering if that’s why Bunch ran away to West Covina, but she also finds herself not wanting to care. There’s far more interesting matters at hand: Greg’s starting to wake up, turning over towards her with a soft little whimper as his eyelids flutter with their frustratingly long eyelashes. Why were men so often gifted with such fine physical features that they didn’t even bother to appreciate?

That’s okay, though, because Audra’s here to appreciate them for him. And if there’s anything she’s learnt in the past twenty-four hours it’s that Greg’s really, _really_ good in the sack.

(Part of her wonders where he had learnt to do _all that_ , but realizes that’s another thought that she’s really, really better off not exploring.)

As Greg tugs her closer, still half-asleep, Audra presses the flutter of a kiss to the corner of his lips. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she whispers a good morning against his ear. His eyes, framed with those long gorgeous eyelashes, flutter open, and it takes him a moment or two to adjust to the sight in front of him. Audra swears she can see her reflection in his irises.

Then, his whole face lights up in realization, corners of his eyes wrinkling as his lips curve upwards. His hand finds the curve of her waist like it belongs there. “Good morning,” he says, in that low timbre of his, and it’s a bit embarrassing how she can feel herself getting wetter just at those two mere words. Embarrassing, but also kind of hot. She squeezes one of his legs between her thighs. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Audra snorts, giving Greg’s shoulder a playful shove with the heel of her hand. “Yes, here in _my_ hotel room. Ass.”

“Hmm,” Greg starts, rolling onto his back as effectively as he can with their legs still tangled. She immediately misses the radiating warmth of his torso. “I do recall you being very appreciative of my ass last night—”

“Shut up,” Audra says as she feels the sides of her face heat up. She’s not used to sex being easy like this. Something that people do for fun, because it feels good, without end goals and motives. It’s nice, simply _being._

She feels like she’s floating on air.

“Hey,” Greg says, tone pitching downwards, losing that usual jokey inflection of his. He swallows. “If you’d rather I leave, that’s fine. Just let me know; I can put my pants back on—”

Hah. It doesn’t seem like he can be serious for long. Audra smiles. “I don’t want you to leave,” she tells him. 

“I’d _much_ rather stay,” Greg drawls out in easy agreement.

With that, there’s not much more to say. Audra’s once again reminded of just how turned on she is, and as she rolls herself over and upwards to straddle Greg’s thigh properly, she’s presented with proof that he’s just as aroused as she is. A little whimper escapes her before she can help herself: there’s nothing more that she wants to do right now than slide herself right down on his cock and feel him fill her, but no. They’ve got to be sensible about this. Never having really been one to beat around the bush, she asks, “Should I get a condom?”

Greg does his best to bite back a laugh. He doesn’t succeed. His thumb at her waist skims the skin there gently, sending tingles down her stomach, and lower still. “Yeah, I think that might help.”

Audra reaches across to the bedside table where Greg had left the strip of condoms he’d brought with him last night. _Presumptuous_ , she’d told him, and in return he’d only responded, _was I wrong_? He hadn’t been, and she couldn’t even fault him for it. It’s validating, in a way, to know that he’d wanted her as badly as she’d wanted him. That she hadn’t been wrong about the chemistry, the spark she’d felt between them the other night.

That she was chasing a healthy impulse for once.

After a couple of failed attempts, she manages to rip the foil open and just as she had done each time they’d fucked last evening, she hands him the rubber. Greg doesn’t even ask why this time, just accepts it, pinching the tip and rolling it on, and he’s barely had time to check its fit before Audra’s descending on him, literally, holding the base of his shaft in position as she lowers herself, inch by inch. Greg groans as she settles into position, his hands digging into her waist while he allows her to set the pace.

She starts slowly at first, adjusting once more to the feel of her inside him, before her movements quickly become more frantic as she rides him, angling herself to get the most stimulation possible. Her hands brace themselves against his shoulders and her hair spills around her shoulders, over her face. She must look quite the sight, but maybe he likes that. The noises he’s making certainly lend credence to that theory.

One of Greg’s hands shifts upwards to gently cup a breast. He’d learned to avoid her nipples last night, at least. “You’re beautiful,” he tells her, and there’s something raw and vulnerable in his voice that she doesn’t know how to tackle so she instead leans in to shut him up with a kiss, all the while riding him harder.

It’s not long before his hips are jerking in erratic tempo with her own movements. It’s like he tries to keep still until he’s almost close, when his breath starts coming out in sputters that he can no longer control, his limbs shaking with the build up of tension. He buries his face into the crook of her shoulder as he comes and as she feels him go limp and boneless, she too allows herself a brief respite, collapsing against him, breasts pushed against his chest.

The moment of calm doesn’t last long, however, at least not for her. After she withdraws from him, Greg disposes of the condom and then pulls her closer in his afterglow. Her nerves fire off again, filling her with that desperate desire to touch and be touched. Would it be crude of her to start getting herself off, she wonders? She’s so turned on she could almost cry.

Greg’s breathing has almost returned to normal when he curls towards her, hands skimming down over her hips again. They don’t stay there, however, instead trailing through her thatch of neatly trimmed pubes and further downwards still. “I do believe it’s your turn,” Greg says, gentle but inquisitive, and Audra sucks in a deep breath with hollowed cheeks, like she hadn’t dared to hope, even despite all the precedence to the contrary.

“ _Yes_ ,” she exhales, head almost spinning in anticipation as Greg shimmies downwards and makes himself comfortable between her legs, kissing the soft skin of her thighs, her hips, her pubic bone, and then his tongue is on her clit and she lets out a strangled sob, the sort of noise she wasn’t aware she could make before last night. Her hands find his hair and thread themselves in the loose curls as Greg works on her like a man parched. She can’t remember the last time she was this wet, is sure that her thighs must be streaked with both her arousal and the exertion of their intercourse. If Greg has any complaints, though, he doesn’t voice them.

He’s far too busy for that.

She wants to look at him, marvel at him, appreciating what he is doing for her (just for her), but the battling temptation to simply close her eyes and lose herself to the feeling is too hard to ignore. She settles for peeking occasionally, and sometimes, their eyes meet, when Greg looks up at her, as though he wants to be sure that she’s enjoying herself, too.

How could she _not?_

Even though he’d done the exact same thing last night, she’s still surprised when he slips a finger, then two, inside her while he’s still busy eating her out, his fingers crooking against that spot she’d been trying to find with his cock while she’d been riding him. It’s all so much. She’d never known she could feel this good before. That she could come without even having to touch herself.

She’s so, so, close now, and she tells him that. It’s useful information, or so he told her last night. Keeps him doing the same thing he’d been doing for a while now: the careful calculated thrust of his fingers, the skilled movement of his tongue. All of her skin's covered in a fine sheen of sweat as her whole body starts tingling from head to toe. And then, in one glorious moment, he coaxes her over that peak and it’s like all the muscles in her body slacken at once and she’s floating on air once more, vision pricking at the edges as she opens her eyes to see Greg smiling at her as he pulls himself back upwards.

“Good?” he asks as lies back down next to her. His eyebrows are knitted. He’s joking, but eager to please.

She scoffs, but she’s unable to keep the smile off her face. “Yeah, it was all right,” she tells him, waving a hand in a so-so motion, which would be more effective if she wasn’t grinning so wide.

Greg lets out a little huff of amusement in return. "I'll take that as a yes." His fingers trace soft circles against her side once more. “Audra?” he asks, in that tone of voice that makes her think she’d do anything he wanted of her.

“Yes?” she says, something in her gut squeezing as she thinks about everything else she has to do today. Check out of her hotel. Eat breakfast. Have coffee with Bunch, which she’d organised yesterday like an absolute shmendrik. _Leave town._

His tone lowers. Husky. Embarrassed, almost, as though he has any right to be after everything they've done together. “Next time you’re on top, do you think you could touch yourself?”

 _Oh_.

There’s going to be a next time. 


End file.
